SCP - Unto the Breach
by universallyfictional23
Summary: An SCP fic of a young researcher forcefully drawn into the world of the unknown. May or may not have some romance or intrigue later on... probably will... Feat. SCP-049 and others... But mostly 049, because I love the Plague Doctor and his design. Rating may increase, but for nothing drastic. Violence mostly. *derp*
1. Supplemental Log - Prologue

SCP Researcher/Analyst 8472's log-Supplemental:

November 29, 2015, 1:45 AM

I miss my childhood. Undoubtedly, before I got dragged into this mess, I would've shot myself for admitting that I was just a kid, but it's true that you never know what you have until it's gone. I'm almost eighteen and I never got to finish high school. I never got my own car and I definitely never went on a date.

And it was all because of that stupid research I sent to AICR, hoping to assist with the cure for cancer and catch the eye of the Scientific Research Bureau. Well, I definitely got some attention, but from the wrong people.

Waking up in some ultra top-secret underground facility—or at least, I _assumed_ it was underground for its lack of windows—I found myself alone, under guard, and under intense scrutiny. Once I was approved through multiple medical tests, vaccinations, biological samples, and psychological evaluations, the white-coated officials there gave me a designation, a briefing of my duties, and slapped a Level 1 clearance on me, whatever good that did.

I was told that I was in a facility, or laboratory designated SCP (Secure. Contain. Protect.), which was designed and equipped to deal with all the unexplained and potentially dangerous anomalies found throughout the world. And that I had just been put in a fairly high-ranking position for a new "recruit": B-class CHP (Civilian of High Potential).

Apparently, the research I had sent to the American Institute of Cancer Research had caught the SCP Foundation's attention because of its brilliance. In all modesty, I had known that my research was outstandingly remarkable for my age and school level when I had sent it in. That was, in fact, the very reason I sent it. I had been executing rigorous experiments on the cancerous cell and had made what I believed to be progress in a new direction. But this work of mine coupled with my high IQ levels had apparently gained me some unwanted attention.

As a result, I was taken away from everything I knew and placed in a high-risk containment and research facility where my childhood was to be inevitably stripped from me. Once I came to terms with my situation and assumed my role, however, I climbed ranks quickly. Though my young age and limited experience often inspired malcontent among my older, lesser co-workers, I eventually reached a high rank which surpassed many in my facility. Hooray me.

My progress was exciting and entertaining to a certain extent, until I began to be lodged deeper in the system. The higher my clearance got, the more baffling and terrifying the objects of my studies became. No longer were they about mysterious sightings, inexplicable scientific phenomena, or supernatural inanimate objects. Now I was forced to study and deal with living entities, at times horrible and strange. My fear of the looming and ever-encroaching unknown soon vanished, however, and my work became less menacing.

Due to my "success" in this new world of secrets and locked cells, I eventually began to forget my old life. The memory of watermelon summers and sugar-cookie Christmases never disappeared, but their persistence did eventually lessen. Soon, I was completely caught up in my research and immersed myself in doing what I was told—an occupation I had previously never been interested in as a teenager.

Now, as I sit in my quarters in the dark, my head still boggled with thoughts of genetic compounds, behavioral patterns, and testing stimuli, I am weary but resigned. All my things are packed and I leave in just a few hours for the new position my recently promoted clearance has earned me.

Class- C Assistant researcher and analyst: Level 3 Clearance.

You don't "graduate" here, by the way. There is no "ceremony" or celebration-worthy decision that's made when you are promoted. You are informed of your new position out of necessity, once it becomes impractical to leave you in your current rank because of what is required of you. In other words, one is promoted according to usefulness.

I am useful. I make a point to be. It's better to get forcefully promoted than to be demoted to a class D, then silently scratched off the list. There's no leaving this place anyway. Retirement or resignation is out of the question, there are far too many secrets here, and escape is impossible for most of the SCP subjects held here, who often possess abilities surpassing that of humans.

Once you're processed into the system, there's no getting out.

I might as well settle in comfortably to my new position.

-_Assistant Researcher Selia Best_


	2. Under New Management

"_You're_… Assistant Doctor Best?" Her new superior questioned her, a doubtful gaze sweeping over her young, white-coated form.

"Yes, sir."

"And how old are you, exactly?"

"Eighteen, sir."

"And what do you specialize in?"

"Mainly general biological and physical research, but also in behavioral patterns, psycho-analysis, linguistics, and interactive coordination," she answered, well practiced at her impressive response.

There was a stunned silence.

"You're still a bit young," he pressed.

"I am aware, Dr. Chancery. Nevertheless, the American branch decided that I was most needed here, and so, here I came."

"I'm not certain how American tests of eligibility are performed, but I should tell you that I'm not yet convinced that you qualify. I will expect immediate positive reports from you and only then will I be confident in your capabilities."

"Of course, sir."

"This isn't some rinky-dink government operation," stated with distain. "This is a global protection agency. We can't afford to have kids running around playing doctor and jeopardizing the security of this foundation. So, for the next few weeks, your other superiors and I will be keeping a close eye on you. Understand?"

"I understand perfectly, sir."

"Good, now go and report to your supervisor. I've got work to do that can't wait until tomorrow."

After marking his signature of validation on her clipboard, he handed it back to her and shooed her from the room.

"Right away. Thank you, sir."

The moment the door closed and was secured behind her, she let out a bitter exhale. She wanted to spit the taste of the word "sir" out of her mouth, but she knew that she would have use of it for the rest of her life.

Her superiors did nothing but cause tension and discomfort for her. With all of their doubts because of her age, it only served to increase pressure on the need for positive results in her work. Until they were impressed enough to take her at her word, every report she turned in would have to be increasingly thorough.

Despite her annoyance at the SCPF doctors, she didn't hold it against them. It was understandable and prudent of them to be sure that she knew what she was doing. Besides, the SCPF had been around for decades. Some of these doctors might've been brought into the foundation through circumstances similar to her.

Selia had already undergone the customary medical and psychological testing necessary to get her approved as physically and mentally stable. Now, in her new lab coat and with a validated admission form from Dr. Chancery, she was obliged to find the office where she would be working and, eventually, her chief supervisor, Dr. Lemurian.

Once in the office, she settled herself at her desk and extracted the SCP subject record file she had been given. Dr. Lemurian was not there, so she began her first assignment: studying the SCP's she would be interacting with.

Doing a brief perusal of the list, she found that nearly all of them were Class: Euclid and the ones that were not were listed as Safe. No Class: Keter's for her and for that she was grateful.

She was surprised by the lethality of some of the SCP's under her care. Upon further reading, however, she saw that most of the more "dangerous" SCP's on her list had been subdued and contained successfully for an extended period of time. In addition to this, she realized that they had already been thoroughly studied and examined; there really wasn't much new research left for her to scrape up from them. That was when she deduced the administration's underlying purpose. These SCP's were merely meant to test her skills and give them an idea of what she could do.

With this in mind, she read down the list of subjects:

SCP-124: Euclid [Hyper-fertilizing soil, affects not limited to plant-life, but extend to all living organic material.]

SCP-153: Euclid [Highly camouflaged organic-tissue devouring organism, found to reside in shower drains.]

SCP-157: Euclid [Previously microscopic, mimetic predator.]

SCP-027: Euclid [SCP-027-02, current host to a multitude of vermin, drawn to him inexplicably.]

She wrinkled her nose at that last one. Hopefully, she wouldn't be required to do physical inspection on that last one.

"NO ONE AROUND HERE EVER LISTENS TO WHAT I SAY!" A man's agitated voice sounded from the hall.

The young assistant jumped slightly in surprise at this sudden noise. From what she could hear, there was a pair of pounding footsteps approaching followed by a pair of lighter, faster ones. The voice from before as well as another voice continued to argue in a somewhat softer tone, their words obscured by the high security doors.

Abruptly, however, the door was slammed open and a male doctor stormed into the office. Selia stared up at the man in awe and slight trepidation for a moment. He was extraordinarily attractive, despite his obvious temper, and though his voice was currently harsh, it bore a smooth, warm quality. The handsome doctor was pursued into the office by another lab-coated man, who was, by comparison, un-noteworthy.

The assistant sat uncomfortably at the desk as the two men argued, oblivious to her presence.

"Why promote me if you lot were going to just keep stabbing blindly in the dark, hmm?" The attractive doctor demanded.

"Dr. Lemurian," the other doctor began. Selia's eyes widened as she heard this. The angry doctor was to be her superior. "You are not here to advise us, you are here to do as we say. Study, experiment, do research, but for heaven's sake, don't-"

The man abruptly cut off as his eyes flicked over Dr. Lemurian's shoulder to the young girl sitting at the desk. Responding to his stare, the angry scientist spun to face his desk.

"Who the hell are you?!" He exclaimed harshly.

Assuming a neutral air, the girl rose to her feet and addressed him professionally.

"That depends. Are you Dr. Lemurian?"

"I am," he affirmed abrasively, his green eyes still dancing with anger.

"Then I am pleased to meet you, doctor." She brushed off her lab coat and stepped forward, proffering her hand. "I am your new assistant, Selia Best, C-Class, Level 3 clearance."

"What the hell?! I didn't ask for an assistant! And what are you, fifteen?!" He turned on the other man in the room, who was apparently of higher rank than him. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, sir," Selia answered him, retracting her ignored handshake. His attractiveness had greatly diminished in her eyes and continued to do so every time he opened his offensive mouth. Nevertheless, she was calm. "I was transferred from the American branch just this morning. Here are my papers," she handed them to him. "You'll find that they are verified by Dr. Chancery, Level 4."

"Yes, I know who he is!" He snapped, turning back to the other doctor. "Please, tell me that this is a cruel joke, doctor!"

The other doctor took the girl's papers from him and looked them over carefully.

"It's not," the man stated. "I was informed that we were getting a transfer from America this week and these papers _are_ approved by Dr. Chancery. If he says you have a new assistant, you have a new assistant. Now, as to our previous discussion," the man marched over to the desk and dropped several papers onto it. "Just do your bloody assignments, Lemurian. Good day, miss."

Eager to remove himself from the current situation, the man then turned and strode out the open door. The green-eyed doctor called after him desperately.

"You can't just drop these things in my lap like that then leave! And take this girl with you!" He ordered in vain.

"For God's sake, do what you're told, Lemurian!" Came the distant reply.

"B-but she's just a kid! I'm not a nanny!"

The slam of a door down the hall was his answer. There was an uneasy silence for a moment between the two researchers. Then Selia gathered her assignments and began to walk to her desk, the smaller one on the other side of the room

"I'll be working on studying my assignments if you need me. And by the way, sir, I'm _eighteen_," she said curtly as she passed him.


	3. A Curious Exchange

"You'll be merely an observer today, assistant," Dr. Infuriatingly-Beautiful-Face told her.

"It's true, Miss Best," the head of analysis affirmed. "After all, this particular SCP is new to the foundation and we do not completely understand it. I trust you read the file?"

"Yes, doctor," the young woman answered, keeping a level voice. "SCP-049, commonly referred to as the 'Plague Doctor.' I've read up on the previous reports of attending doctors, particularly the instance involving its communication with one of them."

"Ah, yes," the man nodded sagely. "A curious event."

"Since then, has it made any attempt to communicate?" The green-eyed doctor inquired.

"No," was the answer. "It hasn't even acknowledged the presence of any of the doctors that come in to observe it. It's a fascinating case. Well," he said as they approached the door to the observation room, "go on in, Dr. Best. Dr. Lemurian will meet you at the end of your shift. A camera will be recording as per usual. See you in two hours."

With that the door hissed open, she stepped inside, and it hissed closed again.

Once she was in the observation room with a single layer of bulletproof glass separating her from SCP-049, she gazed at the unique profile of the creature. As expected, it fit its description perfectly: black hooded robe, metallic bird-like beak (suspected to be a mask), distinctly human-like eyes. It was facing perpendicular to her and seemed to be staring unblinkingly at the floor, utterly unaffected by her presence. She suspected that it was used to having a doctor come in at this time to watch it. No doubt, after three weeks, the schedule would become quite dry.

Well, it was time to change that.

First things first, she switched on the speaker system to his cell. She knew that none of the other doctors there introduced themselves to their subjects, but she didn't see the point in that if they weren't class Keter. If there was still more to be learned from them, then why not attempt basic communication. Despite the fact that she knew SCP-049 likely wouldn't respond to her, she deemed it worth a try.

She spoke into the sound system while she signed her name on her report sheet, keeping her eyes down for the moment.

"Hello, SCP-049," she greeted in a soft voice. She didn't wish to startle him. "I am Dr. Selia Best and I will be your observer for today. I understand that you have not been loquacious lately; that's quite alright. But I remind you that your response is always appreciated and that I shall be here to receive and answer any questions you might have."

She returned her eyes back up to the subject and gasped lightly in shock. Here she was, expecting no response from it whatsoever and, within the first minute of her observation, it turns its head and stares straight at her. Unsure of how to respond, she simply returned its stare, gazing into its piercing eyes for several moments before it rose from its seat. It walked towards her, keeping its eyes firmly clamped on her. When it reached the glass, Selia was dumbfounded. This was the first time she had gotten such a reaction out of a SCP. It simply stared at her for a moment more, before Selia had the good sense to switch on the "audio record" button, hoping for the best. It hadn't been a moment too soon.

"_You're a doctor as well_?" SCP-049's voice inquired clearly, its... _his_ voice metallic and soft.

"Y-yes," she replied. "Are you surprised?" She wanted to keep a calm demeanor as well as urge him to continue the conversation.

"_Indeed I am_," he replied. His voice was distinctly British and had a very collected and moderated tone.

"Is it my age?" She guessed blandly. _Everyone's a critic, even the SCP's_, she complained silently.

"_Not entirely_." he began, pressing a gloved hand against the glass. "_I... I wasn't aware that there were... members of the fairer sex employed here as doctors._"

This surprisingly delicate statement caused an involuntary smile to spread across her lips. His vocabulary and phrasing were reminiscent of a much earlier time.

"Really? There haven't been any other female doctors in here?"

"_None_. _Furthermore, I do not sense any of the disease in you either. How very curious,_" he hummed.

"You speak of 'The Great Pestilence?'"

"_My dear, what else could I be speaking of_?" He practically purred.

She considered her options for a moment. This point in the previous doctor's discussion is where he went wrong. Instead of speaking about his treatments, then, she would encourage the conversation to progress in another direction.

"I am curious, you say that you do not sense any of the disease in me _either_. Have you sensed it in _anyone_ here?" She questioned.

"_Oh, yes, my dear. Several-though not all-of those let into this cell of mine have had it. I dealt with their diseased bodies._"

"So I heard," she responded grimly.

SCP-049 seemed to eye her carefully for a moment before speaking again.

"_Ah, many here disapprove of my methods,_" he noted. "_I see you are of the same mindset._"

Staring directly into his grey eyes, she carefully chose her answer.

"It's hard for me to say when I don't know anything of the disease you treat," she responded admirably. "Tell me, doctor-for I assume you too are a doctor-what are the symptoms of 'The Great Pestilence?'"

"_The Great Pestilence,_" he sighed, turning his eyes elsewhere. "_It certainly has the doctors here occupied. Every new face that enters the room asks the same questions: What is the Great Pestilence? What are its symptoms? Is it the Bubonic Plague that you speak of? How very tiresome. I had hoped that you might differ from your colleagues._"

She was worried that he would discontinue the conversation if she either pushed too hard or too little. So she took a deep breath and flickered her blue eyes away from his beaked mask, feigning meekness.

"Well, I haven't been a doctor for very long," she explained falsely, hoping to egg him on.

"_Well, I suppose not,_" he responded, seeming to inspect her with soft eyes. "_You _do _look a bit young_." He moved a gloved hand up the glass nearer to her face and stroked lightly. Had the transparent sheet not been there, she was sure he would've touched her cheek. "_Just how old are you, if I might ask?_"

"You may not, I'm afraid," she answered, moving further down the desk to a cup of water. The SCP mirrored her shift from the other side of the glass, always remaining in front of her. "Women can be touchy about that subject, I'm sure you've encountered." He observed her silently. "But I am curious, how old are _you_?"

He closed his eyes and let out a soft melodic laugh, a surprising sound to hear coming from an SCP.

"_Dear lady,_ _if you are unwilling to give me your age, what makes you think I would be willing to give mine?_"

She quirked her mouth slightly.

"That's fair enough, I suppose," she allowed. "Very well. I'm eighteen."

Cocking his head and metallic beak, he looked at her in silence.

"_Eighteen?_"

"Yes, I believe that's what I said."

"_You lie. You are not a doctor_," he stated, his eyes narrowing to glower at her. "_You have not been alive long enough to have completed the necessary training. You have not taken the oath._"

"If I'm not a doctor, then what am I doing here?" She questioned. He blinked in silence at this. "If I were anything but a doctor, then I would be in there with you, as a disposable test-subject."

She had just divulged classified information to an SCP and was certain to be fussed at, but she dispensed with the formality. 049 was intelligent and the classification only stood to limit the SCP's awareness; it was likely that he had already worked out what the class-D personnel were.

"Yet here we are," she continued. "On opposite sides of the glass. Now, just what do you make of that, doctor?"

He blinked at her silently.

"_You are clever, I'll admit that. But I've yet to see you exhibit any signs of being an actual doctor. Tell me, young woman, what do you study?_"

She smirked. That much she would not tell him.

"You," she answered, partially truthful.

"_And what do your notes say about me_?"

"Mostly, you're quite a mystery. But it's evident that you're highly intelligent and patient. You believe that you're serving a higher purpose, and so there is no need for you to worry about passing time or other such obstacles."

A chuckled reverberated from under his mask.

"_You flatter me,_" he purred.

There was a minute or two of silence that passed between them after this. Their eyes still connected. For a moment, she wasn't sure how to proceed in a way that wouldn't be cliche or insulting to his intelligence. He had likely been interrogated many times before.

"Well, then," she sighed. "I _am_ here to ask you questions if you're willing to talk." He seemed to scowl a bit from behind his mask. She laughed slightly. "But I'm certain that would be boring for you. What questions haven't you been asked? Or rather, what questions are we not asking?"

SCP-049 tilted his head.

"_Now, _that_ is an excellent question. Perhaps, you shouldn't ask what the Great Pestilence is, or why my treatment is the way it is, or what it is that I am. Perhaps, you should ask what would happen if spiders ceased to exist._"

Her face screwed up in confusion.

"What?"

"_Ask it. Ask it of yourself and deduct the answer_," he encouraged.

"Okay," she submitted. "Uh... Well, there would be less cobwebs, I suppose, and an awful lot of flies."

"_Precisely_," he congratulated. "_I will impart this information to you, my dear. I am merely a spider, one of many, striving to manage the population of flies, insignificant gnats._"

She stared at him with piqued curiosity for a moment, her hand resting against the glass.

"Who are the flies?" She inquired slowly.

The SCP tilted his beaked head upwards imperiously and, if he hadn't been wearing a mask, the young doctor would have sworn he was smirking.

Then he pressed his gloved fingers to the glass so that he covered her smaller digits with his own.

"_I will leave that answer to you and for the next time we speak_," he told her. Pulling away from the glass, he began to back away. "_Come see me again, young Selia Best. I find you most... Interesting. I'll leave you to your notes._"

Then he resumed his seat and lowered his gaze to the floor languidly. The young woman was stunned and slowly retracted her hand from the glass in bewilderment over what had just taken place.

It seemed as though SCP-049 had just _dismissed_ her, but it wasn't as if she could just leave. She was meant to stay in the observation room for two hours.

_I'll leave you to your notes_.

Perhaps the SCP had a point. There were definitely notes to be taken on this encounter and quite a lot of them. And so, withdrawing from the glass, she took a seat, extracted a pencil, and began to describe their conversation. She was completely oblivious to the pair of piercing eyes which watched her every move from behind a certain mask.


End file.
